subtitle: “All you need to know is that he won’t be bothering you anymore.” ~~ matthew lacoy

Very tired. Before I fall asleep and my head flops onto this keyboard, I’d like to paraphrase Lennon and McCartney:

They went out tiger huntingwith their elephants and guns.In case of accidentsthey always took their moms.They’re the all-american, bullet-headedsaxon mothers’ sons.

All the children sing:Hey Bungalow Bill,what did you kill, Bungalow Bill.Deep in the junglewhere the mighty tiger lies,the bills and their elephantsare taken by surprise,till Captain Marvel zaps it right between the eyes.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, is there in fact, as Matthew (who in his own mind is his own special version of Captain Marvel) has said, a very grim situation in my life which could possibly result in some zapping? Well, I’m sure that most of you choose to deny the truth of the things he said to me by saying either that I misheard what he said, or imagined what he said, or that he in fact said these things, but he was lying. Or he was imagining them. Whatever, I suppose, you need to tell yourself in order continue your denial.

But I was present for everything. Everything bizarre, everything illegal, everything cruel, that has happened in my life since the day the crime-chick moved into my building. I’ve been present, and you have not. And I’ve been with Matthew when he’s told me the few things he has, and you haven’t. I know, based on two years of emotional horrors and repeated illegal acts, based on things I’ve seen and heard and wondered mightily about when they happened, based on Matthew’s demeanor when he said these things, that he didn’t lie.

So I believe him, but I certainly don’t hold him or his breed up as Captain Marvels in my estimation. I view them derisively, angrily, bitterly. They’re little children to me, feeding their egos, and possessed of an enormous capacity of their own for denial: they believe that what they do is right, and that they’re on the side of right. They don’t smell their own stink, because they don’t want to.

I’m the only one who’s been zapped, and thus far all of that zapping has been of a type that leaves me still technically alive (that’s all that matters to Matthew: still technically alive). The psychotic, law-breaking landlady has lost nothing. The crime-chick herself has lost nothing (Matthew has said that only “big fish” are wanted). She has served not even one day in jail for drug-dealing, or for any of the illegal things she has done to me. I, the only innocent one in this moral farce, am the only one who’s lost, and I’ve lost everything that mattered. All of it was taken by various players in this farce.

And I’ve met yet another untrue man, only five days ago. If I told you how I met him, and why it was so important to him to meet me and speak with me, and what he does for a living, you wouldn’t believe me. If I were to tell you what happened on a certain night, you wouldn’t believe me. You would continue your denial. If you had minds that were open to accept bizarre realities in the life of an innocent person, you might be able to imagine at least a little how I must feel to have landed, through no illegal activity of my own, smack in the middle of this ugly drama. The denial I myself would like to practice, to say: No, this isn’t happening. But I’ve been through too much horrible truth since July 2006 to be able to pull that denial off.

I had a moral code when I still had my own life. A code designed completely by me, which was quite strict in certain areas, and to which I held fairly tenaciously. It’s unraveling. Thread by thread, I care less and less every day about the morality of my own conduct and wishes. I value human life less and less every day. Excessive trauma, excessive psychological abuse, turn out to have a coarsening effect on some people, and I’m one of them. I grow coarser and more vicious in my attitude towards human beings every day. And I do not care. Tell me I shouldn’t let the darkness that has been levelled at me infect me. You can talk till you’re blue, and I don’t care.